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"Wake up rest," Jak offered.
"Yes, in all likelihood," Doc said.
"But why would they want just the women?" Dean asked.
Doc didn't answer.
Even so, Dean slowly realized it for himself. "Oh," he said.
"It's my fault," J.B. said. "I let everyone down, just like in my dream."
Doc put a hand on the Armorer's shoulder. "No, it is not your fault, John
Barrymore. There's another element to this scenario that I have yet to
mention."
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"What is it?"
"Well, under normal circumstances, a bunch of local sec men would never have
accomplished this feat without one or all of us waking up and killing a fair
number of them, if not all. So, the question is, what was different this
time?"
"Food," Jak said.
"Exactly, my dear Jak. The fruit we traded for had to have been contaminated
in some way, either naturally by radiation poisoning, or on purpose by sec men
with a plan."
"Sec men with plan," Jak decided.
"I think you're right," Dean said. "I've never been so tired in my life."
"Nor have any of us," Doc commented. "So don't blame yourself, John
Barrymore. You couldn't have helped it."
"Rad-blasted sec men and their baron are gonna have hell to pay," J.B. said
through gritted teeth.
"That's the spirit," Doc cheered.
"Let's move," J.B. said, leading the way.
Chapter Eleven
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Sec chief Ganley supervised the raiding party that was assembling on the
shores of Erie Lake. He had spread word about the raid through Reichel ville,
being careful to explain why it was necessary and the dangers the raiders
would encounter.
They would be taking two of their sleekest fishing vessels. Each one measured
roughly eighteen feet long and was powered by paddlers, four to a side. That
meant the ideal number of raiders would be eighteen, giving each boat eight
paddlers and a navigator. But while eighteen raiders would move fastest across
the lake, they would need more than that when they reached their destination.
Ganley decided on twenty-four, which gave each boat ten paddlers, a navigator
and a lookout, which was something important to have considering there were
plenty of mutie creatures out in the deeper waters in the middle of the lake.
Yet despite deciding on twenty-four raiders, Ganley had no trouble filling out
the ranks. He'd selected twenty-three so far and now had to decide on the
final spot with five volunteers to choose from.
The first was a boy who was obviously too young. "Sorry," the sec chief said,
"but I need some to stay here in Reichel ville to protect it while I'm gone."
The boy was disappointed but not surprised.
Next was an old man whose prime years had come and gone long ago. He walked
with a cane, but carried a mint-condition blaster. The blaster would be handy
to have with them on the raid, but not if he could only use one hand to fire
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it.
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Ganley shook his head.
The old-timer seemed relieved, as if he'd volunteered simply to save face.
The final three were all women, which mattered not to the sec chief. His only
concern was that they be able to fight, and he'd seen women who were every bit
as capable as men and often were even more cunning.
The first carried a remade blaster that looked as if it were held together
with glue, baling wire and string. She seemed to be uncomfortable holding the
weapon in her hand, as if she were afraid it might go off while she held it.
"Let me see you change clips," the sec chief said, pointing to the blaster.
"That's the thing that holds the bullets, right?"
Ganley nodded.
She fumbled with it, then said, "I'm sorry, it was my man's blaster. He never
showed me how to use it because it was always by his side."
"Mebbe you can stay here in the ville and learn."
The woman nodded and walked away.
The next woman was young and lithe, and was dressed in little more than rags.
Her only weapon was a sharpened stick, but there looked to be bloodstains on
the end of it.
"Is that the only weapon you have?" the sec chief asked, getting up from his
seat.
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The woman nodded.
"The place we're headed will have plenty of well-armed sec men. I need
blasters." He reached for the stick with his right hand.
In a blur of motion, the woman swung the stick away from his grasp around the
back of her neck and ended up with the pointed end directly under the sec
chiefs chin. She pressed the tip firmly against his flesh, until a single drop
of blood ran down the shaft.
"But there'll be plenty of close-in fighting, too," Ganley said, "and sharp
sticks can kill just as easily as a round from a blaster."
She pulled the point from his chin.
"You're in."
Ganley looked for the last volunteer, but she had already turned and was well
on her way back home.
"We leave in an hour."
THE WAG WAS in good condition and carried them comfortably over the weed-
covered roads toward Fox Farm. Judging by the smell of lubricating oil coming
from the wag's underside, this baron had plenty of jack to spend on the things
that were vital to his operation. Ryan had made a mental note of the sec men's
blasters and aside from a few well-put-together remades, they all had quality
weapons. Sure, the baron had an advantage with an unlimited supply of
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trading more than just fruit.
"What do you think they did with J.B., Doc and Dean?" Mildred asked, her voice
masked by the throaty rumble of the wag's diesel engine.
"I think they're fine," Ryan answered. "The sec men left the building after
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